


Return to Sender

by psiten



Series: SASO 2016 Fills [25]
Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Atobe Keigo is a Flake, Challenge: Sports Anime Shipping Olympics | SASO 2016, Fluff, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 18:40:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14575179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psiten/pseuds/psiten
Summary: Another crosspost from SASO 2016, bonus round 3.Original Prompt:Package: slim box neatly wrapped in brown paperFrom: SanadaTo: AtobeNote: Return to sender





	Return to Sender

**Author's Note:**

  * For [prillalar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prillalar/gifts).



     The last thing Sanada had expected was for a package sent to Atobe to come back marked, "Return to Sender -- Address Unknown". He double checked the address in his notes, which were obviously correct, but honestly that shouldn't have mattered. The man probably had routing instructions at every post office for how to find him, given how often he changed location and how little he would tolerate delays in anything intended for him. Theoretically, Sanada should have been able to march into any package shipment location and tell the clerk, "This is for Atobe Keigo," and they'd have instructions from their corporate headquarters for where to send it. Those were the benefits to trying to send a package to a man whose family owned half the companies in Japan!

     And yet, here in his hands, he had a properly addressed package marked, "Return to Sender -- Address Unknown." Its neat brown paper belied everything Sanada understood as truth. It was not to be tolerated.

     He flipped open his phone. Atobe was three of the last five incoming calls, so there was no question of his phone still being in service.

     "Greetings!" Atobe's voice rang over the line. "You've reached Atobe Keigo's voice mail. Please leave a--"

     "Atobe, I can tell you're not a machine. Explain yourself."

     The laughter on the other end of the phone was not in the least repentant. "My dear Sanada! Perceptive as always!"

     "I said, explain yourself. Why did you return the package of books you asked me to send, and why are you pretending not to answer your phone? You have an actual voicemail service, I assume. If you don't want to take my call, there is no reason to pretend."

     "I do want to take your call, old friend. That's why I picked up. But when I asked if I could borrow those first editions, my intention was for you to bring them to me yourself. I simply will not accept them from hands other than your own."

     Sanada frowned at his phone. "You couldn't have said that?"

     "I thought it was understood!"

     His friend sounded neither upset nor hurt, simply amused. And for the life of him, Sanada couldn't bring himself to be annoyed with the asshole and his games. "Next time, state it clearly. I, unlike some, am not a mind reader. Expect me on Sunday, at noon."

     "I shall have the kitchen prepare a light lunch. Always a pleasure to see you, my friend. We must do this more often!"

     "Contingent upon your explicit verbal or written request to see me in person at a specific time and place. Without that, I will assume nothing," Sanada reminded him.

     "Of course, of course!" Atobe laughed from across the distance closed by two telephones. "Until Sunday, my friend!"

     Not an answer that inspired confidence.


End file.
